Depression
by Poison Lilies
Summary: Carly could only take so much in her life before she'd give up. When an "old friend" comes along, will he be able to stop her before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

In my friend's bedroom, I was leaning back in the rolling chair, bumping my hands on the wall as I kept a bottle of sleeping pills out of reach. It was rather dark except for the moonlight welcoming itself into the window a short distance away.

"Don't try to stop me, Cry. This is the only way out."

It was the only way to escape the world forever — the only way to stop the pain that my family was giving me. It was too much to bear any longer. They had won since the beginning, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized they were right. I was useless. A failure. A _mistake_.

_It all happened seven years ago, after my high school graduation. My mother took me into her car, yelling profanities on the way home._

"_I shouldn't have come to your graduation." My mother growled, waiting for me to slip out of my cap and gown outside the car. It was rather dark, so I had some difficulty getting it off. "It was a total waste of my time; and you couldn't be bothered to achieve anything like those other kids! You're such an underachieving, lazy asshole." We got into the car, and drove down the streets in the headlight lit darkness._

"_What could __I do?" I asked. "Everything I wanted to do required me to stay after school, and you're too lazy to give me a ride."_

"_It's called having friends!"_

"_I can't have friends because of you."_

"_What did I do now?" She sharply turned onto another road, making me slam my head against the window._

_I winced before speaking. "You practically keep me in that prison you call home!"_

"_Don't give me your attitude, Carly. What's your fucking problem, anyway?" She slammed her brakes at a changing red light, glaring at me as the car came to a complete stop._

"_You're the problem!" I grunted at the impact of a hand meeting my face._

_The light clicked green, and as we were driving, my mother pulled over in front of a building._

"_Get out."_

"_What?"_

"_You heard me. You're walking home. Oh, and on your way, pick up some medication to get rid of that childish attitude." Seeing how she didn't show any sign of joking around (then again, when did she ever), I stepped out of the car, watching her speed away._

_Sighing, I speed walked along the dark road, hoping to get out of the slight chill that came with the occasional breeze._

_When I got home, I turned the doorknob to find that it was locked. It didn't matter to me; I could get through my bedroom window, which I had left open today, an accident-turned-miracle. I climbed through, falling onto the warm carpet. The moment I sat up, there was a knock on my door._

"_Are you back yet, cunt?" Of course, it was my oh-so-kind mother._

"_What's it to you?" I retorted, standing to quietly, but quickly, lock my door._

"_Stop with the attitude, Carly. I've had enough of your shit!" I could hear the doorknob rattle furiously, before I heard footsteps walking away._

_I sighed in relief, walking to my bed to sit. At least she wasn't going to break the –_

**_Thump. Crash._**

_Oh, for the love of –_

"_Don't you dare lock your door on me!" She yelled, stomping towards me._

"_Stop acting like a five-year-old, mother. You're over-reacting over the smallest things."_

"_Maybe you shouldn't act like one! You're doing all these immature things. If you want to act like a child to me, then I'll act like a child to you."_

"_I'm not acting like a child. The only thing I'm doing is – You know what?" I stood up, pushing my mother away. "Get out."_

"_Excuse me!?"_

"_Get. The. Fuck. Out. I don't want you in my life."_

"_You can't tell me what to do! I'm your mother, for Christ's sake!"_

"_What did I ever do to you, anyway?" I asked, crossing my arms, brows furrowing._

"_You were born," she stated simply, pausing to glower at me before walking away, announcing her leave. "Let's see how long you can last on your own, bitch!" She shouted._

_I stood for a moment, jaw slightly open at the response she gave me, and a few minutes later, the front door slammed._

_As time went on, my "mother" bombarded my phone with calls and texts, saying anything from "You're a miserable child," to "It would be better if you just died. That way no one would have to put up with you." It happened everyday; it was starting to take a toll on me._

_I lost friends because I had to juggle my job and the stress my mother created; there wasn't any time for friends. If it wasn't work, it was leaving them so I could argue with my mother. After a while, they told me that they had had enough of my "drama", and to either sort it out or they would leave. It was impossible to sort out; and I tried to tell them that, too, but they didn't listen._

_My clothes slowly changed from greens and oranges to blacks and dark blues. I dyed my blonde hair black to match my new style. Over time, when the calls became more frequent, scars covered my wrists, hands, face, and legs. It was a hot summer day, so I wore a pair of black shorts and a band shirt with dark shoes, and walked to the local outlets. Walking was a little uncomfortable; the cuts I made were slightly deeper than the last time, but I would get used to them in no time. No one would notice them anyway; wearing light-weight fishnets concealed most—if not, all—of them. It would be better that way._

_Not everyone walked on without noticing, though. A few questioned them. Thankfully, telling them it was a bike incident was better than telling them my life story. They didn't have to know, and most of them wouldn't care even if I had told them the truth._

_As the weeks went by, I kept my distance from everyone. However, the calls interrupted my alone time more than ever. The stress added on, along with the torment. My usual kind demeanor slid into a short temper. I often flared at the smallest of things; I never took pride in what I did, and drove people away with my insanity. Anyone who saw me hid their faces and cowered in fear when I spoke to them._

_One day, at the outlets, I was inwardly criticizingthe various shops and merchants when I saw one of my ex-friends._

"_Hey, Dee-Dee." I started to walk towards her, with a slight smile. I decided to play nice, just to see her reaction._

_She looked at me for a moment before her eyes quickly changed into fear. "H-Hey, Carly."_

"_How's it going?"_

_She didn't speak for a little bit, but spoke nonetheless. "Good. How about you? How're you and your mom?"_

_I wasn't going to tell her; she never cared before, so why would she care now? I furrowed my brows and opened my mouth to speak when another girl interrupted us._

"_Hey, Debra, do you have –" Her eyes locked on mine. I could've sworn that I'd seen her shudder, but I let it pass. "Who's this emo chick? Is she one of your friends? Gross."_

"_You probably don't even know what 'emo' even means, fuckin' whore," I looked her up and down. "If you're looking for a job, you can either go to the strip club in town or stand at the nearest corner."_

"_What the hell is your problem? Did you cut yourself to a vein or something?" She laughed._

_The thing was, I didn't even know the chick, and I already felt like knocking her out cold. I balled up my fists in response and debated on whether to do it. "Do you have nothing better to do than insult people because you think you're better than them?"_

"_Actually, yeah. Only because I'm richer than everyone," she smirked. "I'll see ya, Debra. And make sure you get rid of that piece of trash. She really brings your popularity down, girl."_

_Honestly, I didn't even remember moving, but all I heard was a sharp crack and a thump, followed by screaming. The girl who insulted me was on the ground, covering her nose and crying. The thing was, I didn't want to leave her that way. I wanted to let her feel what I was going through. So, I got down on my knees, trapping her, and rose my arm to punch her again. And again. It continued for a bit, until a force restrained both of my arms._

"_What the hell is going on?" A male voice asked._

_After getting up, still restrained by the man, I rounded to look at the source of my restraint, and saw a blue eyed, tall man who appeared around my age, 20, with an angered expression._

"_She gave me a problem, so I decided to solve it. Now, can you let me go?" I asked, struggling to break free._

"_… __I think you're lying. What happened, Debra?" He turned his head to my ex-friend, who, upon turning my head a little, was trembling and... crying?_

_Seeing that she didn't speak, the stranger dragged me to a nearby café, where he spoke in a slightly threatening voice, "Give me one reason to not take you to the police."_

"_Because I don't know you, and –"_

"_I'm Cry. Debra's friend? We met at a party."_

"_Sure..." I drew it out, adding a sarcastic note to it. I didn't know this "Cry" worth shit. "Anyway, if you pressed charges against me, you would be just as involved because you have her blood on you now." I smiled as the realization__sunk in._

"_How about a deal?"_

"_What?" I looked at him curiously. He paused, thinking. "Well?" I prompted after a moment. Making a deal with a stranger who knew me wasn't on my to-do list; I just wanted to leave. To go home, and be in my solitude, and dwell in my pain._

"_I won't take you to a police station, if you promise to call me at least once a week; just to make sure you're not in jail, okay?"_

_What the fuck? Since when was he my father?_

"_And," he added. "You need to learn some self-control."_

"_Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?" I could do what I wanted, and I didn't need Mr. Cry's jolly help in living my life._

"_You still seem like a nice girl, though."_

"_I don't even know you!" I tried to make my point, but there was no sign that he acknowledged the comment._

"_It's a shame that you changed. I really liked the jean skirts and V-necks."_

_Why couldn't I speak? Did someone actually care about me? No, I thought, there was no way he cared. I didn't know him, but he knew so much about me that it was creeping me out; he was a nice guy, don't get me wrong, but he was a little too engrossed in my life for comfort. There was something about him though... something that meant well._

"_I have to get home," I quickly spoke, intent on getting away from Cry. I broke free of the somewhat lax grip he had, and turned to speed walk away, but he grabbed my arm._

"_Here, you have to keep your end of the promise," He quickly took a pen from his pocket, grabbed a napkin, and wrote ten numbers on it, "Take it." Cry shoved the napkin into my hand and released me._

_Keep the promise, my ass._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_The months went by, growing darker as the impact of even more phone calls (if it was possible at this point – my mother was already calling me every twenty minutes or so), shoved their way into my mind. A queer. A waste of time and money. It was continuing to take a toll on me. I found myself lying awake at night instead of sleeping, and, after some time, I had to go to a doctor so I could be prescribed some sleeping pills to help me rest._

_The first night was almost terrifying. I took a pill and within minutes, I fell into a dreamless slumber. However, when I woke up, I looked to the clock by my bedside to see that it was almost four in the afternoon. I slept for over fifteen hours! Concerned, I grabbed my phone and called work to explain my absence. They seemed to take it well and gave me the next few days off so I could get used to the pills._

_I got used to the pills, all right. Too used to them. Instead of one pill every night, I secretly raised my dosage to two pills, and when my body was immune to two, two increased to four, and four went to seven. I was due back to the doctor the next day anyway, so it wasn't really a concern to me if I ran out. I would keep taking them and lie about the progress they were making. Anything for an excuse to have more._

_One night, I habitually opened the nightstand drawer to grab the pills when something caught my eye. What was a napkin doing in there? I set the pills on top of the stand and pulled out the napkin. It didn't looked used, so I could use it to clean my pocket knife when I was done cutting. Wait... what was the black smudge on the inside? Opening the napkin, I read its contents._

_182-579-1043_

_Whose number was this, and where did I get it? I sifted through the memories, trying to figure out where it came from and who it belonged to. After some time, nothing came to mind, so I decided to call the number. Sure, it was pretty late, but hopefully the person wouldn't take it as a bother._

_Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring... The phone rang for what felt like forever, and I almost hung up, but a voice on the other end stopped me. "Hello?"_

"_Oh! Um... Hi..." I answered, quickly thinking of a way to ask the male voice for his name._

"_Who is this?"_

_Tell him my name? I d__id__n't even know the guy, but how else would I be able to figure out who it was? "I'm Carly, and who're you?" Cliché, I thought, but it was the only way I had thought of __without sounding creepy._

"_That depends on who's asking."_

"_Er... I have this number on a napkin, of all things," I mumbled the last part mostly for myself. "And I can't remember how I got it, or who it's from. Out of curiosity, I called."_

"_Oh... __U__m..." It was quiet on the other line; instantly, it got awkward._

_It was like talking to a clouded memory. The voice sounded familiar, but it could be anyone honestly. I would be surprised even if I did know the guy._

"_Well, I'm Cry. I don't know if you were expecting a friend, but it seems like you were."_

_Cry...? Hold on. Cry?_

"_Hey, wait." I said before he could have the chance of hanging up. "I think I might know you. Are you the guy who broke up my fight?"_

"_What?"_

"_Yeah, you are! You pulled me off of some girl and w__ere__ talking to me, and gave me your number so we could talk."_

"_… Oh yeah!" His voice audibly lit up. "So you finally called me!"_

_Great, he remembered the promise. Why didn't I just hang up after he said his name? "So, I have to get some sleep. Good night."_

"_G'night, friend!" And hung up._

_Did he just call me 'friend'? I didn't dwell on it too long, so I put my phone down, closed the drawer and took my seven sleeping pills to fall asleep. Minutes later, I welcomed the dark, dreamless sleep._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Was it enough to say that I actually snapped at Cry's house? Maybe it wasn't, I couldn't tell; I was too busy struggling against his grip, with him trying to grab the bottle from my hands.

"Don't try to stop me, Cry. This is the only way out."

"No, it isn't. Please, listen to me!" He tightened his grip, making me wince.

"I'm done listening. Action is the only effective way, and that's what I'm trying to do. I'm going to do it, and you can't stop me." I continued to struggle against the vice grip, unsuccessful. "It's not worth it anymore; I've waited for results, Cry, and I never got them." Tears were threatening to spill over.

"There's always another way, Carly. You can't resort to this."

"There is no other way. I've done all I could. Don't you understand?" I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

He wiped the tear away lovingly. "I might not understand everything, but I know enough to say that you still have options. Rehab centers, therapy, psychiatrists... They help people that go through these things."

"I've tried them. They don't help. Nothing does."

"Try again. Don't give up."

What he didn't know was that I had already given up a long time ago. I wasn't going to tell him that, of course; it was enough that he was hindering my goal.

"You're right," I lied after some thought. "I shouldn't give up."

He smiled sincerely and released my arms. I regretted lying to him like that, but how else would I be able to take the pills?

"It's late though; we should get some rest." I faked a yawn, and got up, pills still in my hands, and opened the cap.

He watched me warily as I took a pill out; there was no way I was going to tell him about my addiction. Soon, though, I wouldn't have to tell him anything that would hurt him. I took only one pill, to make him sure that he knew I was serious, and said goodnight, muttering an inaudible goodbye as I hugged him tightly for the last time, tears streaming down my face.

As we parted, Cry assured me that everything was going to be fine, which I knew was a lie, of course, but I acted as if it was true. He walked me to my bed, and I feigned sleep until he left. The second the door closed, I sat up and quickly — quietly — reached for the bottle on the bedside table, unscrewing the cap as I muttered a silent apology for Cry putting up with me.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_When I awoke the next morning, I grabbed my phone to glance at the time — How did I sleep for three days? My eyes widened significantly, and I shot up, realization seeping in. That was impossible, I thought, I took seven pills before, but I only slept for eight hours. What made me sleep that long?_

_Forget that, I interrupted myself. I needed to —_

_Ring!_

_I glanced again at my phone, showing the now familiar number on the screen._

"_'llo?" I yawned._

"_Hey, friend," Cry laughed before changing into a serious tone. "Are you okay? I tried to call you for three days, and you didn't pick up."_

"_Yeah, I'm fine, I just — Hang on, I have another call coming in." I scrunched my face at the vibration of another caller, and pulled the phone away to blindly press the answer key._

"_Hello?" I should've at least looked to see who was calling._

"_Hey, you piece of crap," My mother replied, voice filled with bitterness and hatred. I held my temper as best as I could. "So, did you just wake up from your late night with your girlfriend, you fucking queer?"_

"_I'm single."_

"_Hah!" She snorted heavily into the phone, making me pull it away for a second. "Serves you right! I –"_

"_I've been single since middle school when you scared that boy away." I defended, losing my calm demeanor slowly._

"_You liar! I know you've been calling people! I have your phone history right in front of me." She read off a list of texts and people I had contacted within the last week, ending with Cry's number. "So, who's this number?" She read the number aloud, as if it would make me confess what I was doing._

"_It's none of your business who I call and why." I explained, attempting to stay calm about the situation._

"_I have every right to know! I'm your mother!" She yelled._

"_My mother?" ____I shouted, starting to lose control of my temper.______"____You're anything __**but**__ a mother! A monster? Now that's more accurate."_

_About two years ago, my mother and I had a somewhat neutral relationship, or so I thought. It was shortly after my father died from a boating incident, and we had just gotten back from the hospital, mourning along the way home. Once we went through the door, everything went downhill again._

"_You know, it was your fault that your father died, Carly," my mother kept saying. She was annoying me in the car, and now she started it back up. I hadn't said anything before, but this time, I wanted it to stop. Maybe she was grieving, but this was overboard!_

"_No it wasn't. I wasn't even on that trip." I finally told her._

_I should have learned to keep my big mouth shut, but it was just too annoying to leave alone._

"_How __**dare**__ you say that! You shouldn't lie about where you were." my mother growled._

"_How am I lying? I was at work!"_

"_You're a piece of work!"_

"_Real mature, mother!" I spat. "Father just died, and all you can do is throw insults. I wish you were dead, and not him; at least he treated me with respect." I mumbled the last part to myself, but the look on my mother's face implied that she heard every word._

_"____You__**fucker**__... If you hate me so much, why don't you die? That way, you won't have to deal with me!" As she spoke, she ran into the kitchen, and came back with a butcher's knife. "Here, you can do it now." She extended the knife to me, and I hesitated slightly before taking it._

_The therapy sessions that ended about three weeks prior started kicking in, telling me not to kill myself. I looked at the knife, pondering the choices; it wasn't like I had anything to really live for... Except maybe that party that one of my friends invited me to over the weekend. I guess I could go, but I knew that some college kids were going, and they had said something about __beer..._

_But what would happen afterward? I'd have to come back home, and face the torment again. There was only so much I could take before... I looked at the knife, making my final decision. I extended the knife..._

"_Here, save it for someone who has nothing to live for, like you." I held it out towards her, noticing her shocked expression. "I have something to live for. Therapy has taught me better than you think."_

_Unfortunately, therapy was the only thing that was giving me a slightly firmer decision. It had nothing to do with my original decision; I wanted my mother to die in place of my father, simple as that._

"_Look who's talking." My mother's voice shook me back into the cruel world I called life. "You're the one who can't even control her life, let alone her temper!"_

"_Leave me the hell alone!" I shouted. "You don't know what I'm going through!"_

"_Sure as hell I do! I've been making sure your life has been fucked up."_

_I couldn't take it any longer; tears were streaming down my face, and she was beginning to become too much._

"_I want you to –" I hung up on her._

"_...Uh... Not to be rude or anything, but did you reali__z__e you left my line on during all that?" Cry asked._

_Well, fuck me. Fuck me __**hard**__. Now he knew about my life._

_In shock, I spoke frantically. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that. I didn't even know my phone didn't hold lines; it's an old one." I wiped the tears from my face, trying not to break down from the sudden outburst that my mother had given me._

"_Did you want to talk about it? I'm here for you." __H__e offered._

"_Yeah, but could I come over to your house, though?" I asked. "I just don't want to talk on the phone anymore." I honestly wanted to get away from my phone; it was the only communication from my mother, and if I was away from it, I wouldn't be tempted to answer it._

_After writing his address down on my hand with a pen that I scrambled for, I hung up, anxious to get to his house and away from my phone. Upon realization that his house was within walking distance, I slipped on shoes and walked the two blocks to Cry's home. I lied about talking about the situation though, but it was better than sulking in my home._

_A knock on the door later, I stepped into his house and fell to my knees._

"_Hey, are you okay, friend?"_

_I lost my voice._

"_Let's take you upstairs." I couldn't protest, as he took hold of my wrist, snapping me out of my shock, and pulled me into his room to sit on a chair._

_Once I was seated, I tried to take in my surroundings, but it was a little too dark to tell what exactly was in his room. I thought I could make out a bed with its low, long silhouette._

"_Talk," he demanded. He couldn't add a please with that?_

"_About what, Mister Demanding?" I sneered._

"_Anything; you need to get your mind off of what's happened."_

_Why the hell was he trying to help me? There was no way he was going to help me; if the professionals couldn't do anything, neither could Cry._

"_Okay, um... I like your hair?" I wasn't sure what to say; my mind was still replaying the argument._

"_Thanks, Carly," he replied kindly. It sounded like he was smiling._

"_Your hoodie looks comfortable." What color was it, anyway?_

"_Thanks. It is, too."_

"_I like your jeans."_

"_Thank — Wait, what?" I laughed at his slight confusion._

"_Nothing; You're belt looks cool." It looked like a black studded belt. If only I had worn mine, then we would have matched our look._

_I was wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. I wasn't into wearing t-shirts in January, although it would have been less stifling in his home if I had. He was wearing a hoodie, too. A... black one? I couldn't tell. I knew we were both wearing jeans, but his appeared to be in better condition than my ripped ones. Mine were in style though._

_The only color I had on me was my belt. A dark red and blue belt. I only wore it because it had the appearance of blood when one looked at it from a certain angle._

"_Thanks? But, do you mind if you look at my face rather than my jeans?"_

_I blushed profusely, looking away entirely. "Sorry about that. I was looking at your belt, but..." I trailed off._

_He laughed. "It's fine, friend."_

_Was that laugh forced? It quickly got awkward from the extensive silence. I had nothing else to really say; I wasn't a conversationalist, which was bad, considering the situation I was in._

"_What color_**is**_your hoodie?" I asked to give an excuse to look away from his face and at his hoodie; I was trying to get rid of the blush that was still apparent._

"_Green. Why?"_

"_No reason. I just couldn't make out the color because of the dim light, that's all."_

_I looked up again to see a light flush on his face and his eyes locking onto mine. "What?" I cocked an eyebrow._

"_Huh? Oh, n-nothing. Just spaced out," he stuttered out. Of course, he was lying. No one spaces out on someone's eyes unless they're trying to read their mind._

"_Could I go?"_

"_Did you want to stay? I still want to talk."_

"_No, it's kind of late for me. I need to go home."_

"_It's only eight o'clock. Besides," he pushed. "You can spend the night to get away from... things."_

_He had a point though. I needed to get away from it all. Oh! My sleeping pills! They'd do nicely for getting away. Getting away... Forever._

"_Sure, I have to get my sleeping pills though." I left without a reply, and paced the two blocks back to my house to fetch the pills near my bed._

_Once inside, I rushed to my room, hearing my phone ring, and picked it up to answer it, this time looking at the Caller ID. "Hello?" I answered in a fake, cheery voice._

_"Apologize.__"_

"_Stop calling me, and leave me the hell alone!" I replied angrily to my mother._

"_Not until you apologize."_

"_I pay for my phone bill, so I can block your number and you can't do a thing about it." I hung up, throwing the phone back on the bed and snatching the pills, eager to return to Cry's house._

_I made the quick journey back to his house, knocking on the door. Cry answered immediately. I smiled, knowing that my phone was back at my house; no one would miss me anyway. As I made my way to Cry's room, the slight nerve-racking presence he made by following closely behind was also a little welcoming, in a creepy way._

"_You take sleeping pills?" he asked as I sat back in the rolling chair._

"_Yeah... Seven," I said sheepishly._

"_Seven? Are you crazy? You could kill yourself!"_

"_Isn't that the point?"_

"_**N**__**o**__**!**__" Cry __s__houted. I shied back slightly, startled._

"_There's nothing you can do anyway. My mom won. The bullies won too."_

"_What are you thinking?" He took a step closer. "Suicide isn't the answer! Give me the pills __before you do something you'll regret."_

"_No. I have to do this."_

"_You don't have to do anything!" He emphasized. He reached for the pills in my hand, but I pulled back before he could grasp them._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

As I poured out the contents, I remembered what Cry had told me.

"_Don't give up._"

"_Everything is going to be fine._"

I wish I could live up to those expectations. Sadly, anything I did ended up in a downwards spiral. If only Cry understood what it felt like to be in this position; he would take the same route too. Unfortunately, I wasn't Cry.

The glass of water on the nightstand was full, ready to be used. Grabbing the water, I drank a little to make sure that the pills went down easy. Here we go, I sighed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

A pause. I wanted to be sure I didn't hear Cry coming in this direction. After a moment, I continued.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

"_What the hell are you doing?" _I heard him yell.

I jumped violently, pills flying and the water spilling everywhere.

"Nothing, Cry. Go back to sleep," I instructed, after steadying myself.

"You were going to do it weren't you?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't... I..." I started to cry.

"Come here." Instead, he came to me and sat on the side of the bed.

"Why would you do this?" He asked.

"I didn't want to h-hurt you."

"You're hurting me by killing yourself. You have to go to a hospital before you fall into a coma."

"I don't care. I'd rather die than put up with people –"

"People like me?"

I paused; I wasn't even able to complete my sentence. "– With people who will never be able to help me."

"Why couldn't you just take my advice and keep trying other places that help people like you?"

"You don't understand. No one does. If you went through what I went through, you would do the same thing! No one should have to go through such agony. What I'm doing is the only alternative, especially if everything else failed to work."

"If you would've gone to the professionals earlier, this wouldn't have happened." He tried to comfort me.

"I went to them earlier, and they couldn't do anything. The medication didn't even help."

He didn't speak for a minute, taking the time to absorb everything. Looking over, he saw my eyes drooping. "Don't you dare fall asleep, Carly." As my eyes slid closed, I heard shuffling and the dialing of numbers, followed by a worried tone.

Comatose was close enough; as long as the doctors couldn't save me, I would finally be free.

_Beep... Beep... Beep..._

What's going on? Was I dead?

"… If she's lucky."

I didn't recognize the voice; I shouted for Cry, but all I could hear was my own voice echoing through my head, and all I could see was darkness.

"So, you can't do anything to save..."

_Cry!_ I screamed, but nothing moved, and all attempts to move were in vain.

"No, she's as good as..."

_Beep... … … Beep... … … … Beep... … Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–_

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed. If the story turns over well, I might post the alternate ending.**

**Poison Lilies**


End file.
